


The Perfect Life

by bgd_thrifty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eating Disorders, HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgd_thrifty/pseuds/bgd_thrifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his writings, a wise Italian says that the best is the enemy of the good – Voltaire, La Bégueule<br/>Too many become obsessed with perfection.  All Harry knows is that he definitely didn’t sign up to this. Written for hd_birthdaybash's 30th celebrations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful rons_pigwidgeon and mijeli who kindly beta'ed this for me.

“What does everyone want for breakfast?” Harry called up the stairs. Summer holidays were upon them once again, and Harry relished the sounds of his teenagers tramping all over the place and making far too much noise. There was a commotion above him, the old floorboards creaking ominously, and then his eldest and youngest children appeared, sliding artfully into their chairs. Harry grinned as Lily and James requested the Potter ‘signature dish’ – bacon and eggs. His smile didn’t last for much longer when he realised that _yet again_ , Albus Severus was missing.

“James, where’s your brother?”

James shrugged, and the good mood that usually pervaded the room turned sour. “He’s in his room, isn’t he? Who cares? If he’s going to be an idiot, let him!” James refused to be sympathetic to his brother’s current plight, and while Harry knew the situation was frustrating, he wished that James would be more supportive.

“Lily, please go and get Albus. Tell him that this isn’t a negotiation.” Lily ran up the stairs, making just as much noise as she had coming down. Harry set the table while James sat there sullenly. Plating up the food (an egg and two rashers of bacon; _one_ piece of toast – we don’t want to overwhelm him now), Harry knew it was only a matter of time before his impulsive firstborn was unable to keep his mouth shut any longer.

“Dad, I just don’t understand why you’re being so nice to him about this. He’s being a complete twat–”

“James!”

“Well, it’s true. Anyway, he’s being an idiot, and Mum says that if you stop indulging him, he’ll get over it.” Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, because Ginny was _the_ authority on her kids; seeing them once every other month for a weekend when they were at home, and not at all when they were at Hogwarts. No, he was just being bitter again. She did write them a lot of letters. Even so, she had _no_ idea what was going on with Albus, and Harry hated the way she always thought she had a solution for everything.

Any possible rebuttal Harry might have had was suppressed as Lily and Albus came through the doorway, Lily tucking right into her breakfast. Albus sat down, looking ill. He seemed tired, Harry noted, and black circles were starting to form under his eyes. Maybe a spot of Dreamless Sleep wouldn’t go amiss tonight; Merlin knew Albus had been asking for it. Harry asked the kids about their plans for the day, trying not to be affected by Albus’s complete refusal to say anything, or even pick up his fork. Instead, he had filled his glass with water and was drinking it very slowly. Lily was off to visit the Burrow, and James was house-hunting with Victoire and Teddy (although Harry couldn’t see the appeal at all, what with the way those two were always all over each other).

“Alby, what are you doing?” Lily chirped. Her tone was so upbeat that Harry had to smile. She had such a sunny outlook on life that Harry dreaded the day when she realised that the whole world was not happiness and rainbows.

“Fuck. Off.” There was a silence, and then sound erupted.

“Dad, how come _he’s_ allowed to swear?”

“Alby?”

“Albus, apologise to your sister this instant!”

Albus sat there stoically, and Harry was at a loss.

“Albus…” he growled, about ready to hit his son around the head. Why was he so frustrating?

“Don’t worry Dad, it’s okay. Alby’s just not feeling very well.” Harry could see Albus grinding his teeth in order to keep silent, but not a peep was heard from him for the rest of breakfast. Then Lily and James left, and Harry was left with his middle son.

“Albus, your food is getting cold.”

“That’s alright. I’m not very hungry.” Harry closed his eyes, but tried to persevere.

“Now Albus, I know that’s not true. Can you just try to eat a little for me?” Albus opened his mouth as if to protest, but it seemed like the beseeching look on his father’s face made him waver. He picked up his fork and knife, his hands wavering, and began to cut the white of his egg up, eating each piece slowly and methodically. When he was finished, he sat back and stared defiantly at Harry.

“I’m done.”

“Come on now, Alby. Eat the rest of the egg… or have some bacon? Toast? I didn’t butter it.” The crusts were peeled off, and one much-reduced-in-size triangle of toast was eaten. By the look on Albus’s face, there was no way he was going to continue. What had happened to his little boy? Albus’s once round face was so pinched, he looked in pain. His wrists were so fragile that Harry was surprised that they didn’t snap when he picked up the weighty cutlery. The arms sticking out from Albus’s large T-shirt were so small; so _birdlike_. As if he could read Harry’s mind, Albus wrapped his arms around himself and looked down at his essentially full plate.

“Dad, can I go outside?”

“Yes, of course. But make sure you apologise to Lily later, she didn’t deserve what you said to her.” Albus shrugged and left the room. The front door shut quietly a few minutes later. It was only then that Harry allowed himself to drop his head into his hands. Where had he gone so wrong?

Later on, he was readying himself to get started on some paperwork when he heard an urgent knocking on his study door. Looking wistfully at his work, Harry moved to the door and opened it. He was disorientated for a while, before remembering that there was one child that hadn’t surpassed him in height yet.

“Daddy, Alby’s running again. He’s gone past my window about ten times and James said he saw him on his side too.” Harry swore softly again. No wonder Albus had acquiesced so easily.

“Thanks, Lils.” He made to move past her, but Lily didn’t budge.

“Dad… is Alby ever going to get better? I’m really worried about him. I don’t think he sleeps very well at night. He gets cold really easily, and you know his room has that draft.” It had never bothered Albus before, in fact he’d always said that the old place had ‘character’, but Harry supposed that life was a little different when you had no natural insulation to speak of.

“Sweetheart, I know he will. We just have to give him time.” Lily hugged him tightly, and Harry buried his face in her long red hair. She really was all the best parts of Ginny. When she left, Harry picked up his wand and made his way to the outside of their home, where he knew he would spot his son.

Albus wore a long-sleeved top, but his legs were covered only by shorts. Harry could see every tendon and muscle flex and it made him want to be sick. Albus reached up to stretch, and his top rode up, revealing sharp, unforgiving and bruised hipbones. It reminded Harry of when he lived with the Dursleys, but Albus’s extreme height made it so much worse.

Harry walked up to Albus and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on son, that’s enough. You need to get inside and rest a little.”

“Just five more minutes, Dad. Five more and then I’ll be done.” Even as he said it, Harry could see in Albus’s eyes that he knew he wasn’t going to win this battle. “Fine,” he said, shoving past Harry on his way back inside. Harry tried not to show how much that had hurt; how he had felt his son’s bones moving under the paper-thin layer of flesh on his body. Harry watched him go, hoping that this wasn’t the tone that the rest of the holiday would be set by.

**

He was _late_ and he hadn’t done the paperwork, and July was going to _kill_ him. In his haste, he didn’t look where he was going, and bashed into someone going the opposite way, his papers flying everywhere.

“ _Fuck!”_

“Whoa, Potter, mind yourself there.” Too flustered to speak, Harry began gathering the papers together before he managed to get them in even more of a muddle.

“Hey, aren’t these our case notes from last week? You haven’t filled them in yet?” Harry looked up and was mortified to see the face of his partner, Draco Malfoy.

“No, uh, I haven’t had the time.”

“Look, Potter, I realise that it’s fun having the kids at home, but these are supposed to be in _today._ I thought I could count on you to get it done.” Harry felt awful.

“I know, Malfoy, but I’ve just not had the time. I’ll skip this morning’s meeting and they’ll be in by the afternoon, I promise.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and took the bulging folder from him. “No, you go put your feet up or something; you look like you need a rest. I’ll have them filled in and handed over to old witch-face before you’ve had the coffee you so obviously need.” He walked off before Harry could pick his jaw off the floor. Malfoy… was being nice? What was the world coming to?

Harry drank said coffee and thought of the nightmare that last night had been. He’d been up until the early hours of the morning with Albus, who had been jogging in his room secretly. When Harry had gone to investigate a loud thump, he’d found Albus breathing heavily and lying on the floor. It seemed that he had fainted, hitting his shoulder on the wooden flooring, and didn’t have the energy to get back up again. After healing what was sure to become a wicked bruise otherwise, Harry had picked Albus up and laid him down on the bed. However, Harry knew that he shouldn’t be able to lift his nearly six feet tall son that easily.

The worst part was when Albus started crying. Albus _never_ cried. Shushing him and wiping his hair from his sweaty forehead, Harry tried to calm Albus down to little effect.

“Dad… I can’t. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Was Albus saying he was ready to get help? Harry knew that the whole process would be so much easier if Albus let people help him get better, but so far, he hadn’t been willing.

“Shall I ask Auntie Audrey if she –”

“No! What I meant, is that I don’t want to… _be_ anymore.” Harry went cold.

“Please don’t joke about things like that, Albus.” Albus turned furious eyes to him.

“Joke? _Look_ at me!” He pulled up his shirt to reveal his concave stomach and roughly pinched at his flesh, somehow finding the energy to sit up. He seemed to think that this proved his point. All Harry could see were the numerous visible veins in his son’s body that had nothing to cover them.

“Albus, that’s not fat.” Albus scoffed. “All I can see is skin and bone. Please Albus, _please_ don’t think like this.”

“Dad, I’m disgusting. You should just give up on me. I’m not worth it. I already know you hate me for making Mum stay away, you and Lily and James. I _know_ you do.”

“Alby, I could never hate you! I love you, and so do Mum and James and Lily. All we want is to see you well.”

“Then why did Mum leave?” Harry paused, not wanting to defame his  former wife. Right now, though, he _hated_ her for leaving him to do this alone.

“You know Mum is so busy all the time and can’t really get away. That’s why I work where I do, so one of us can be here to look after you.” Albus snorted, but didn’t say anything further, not even when coaxed. “Now come on, give us a hug. Albus, I don’t want to hear you say things like that again. You’re my strong boy, and I don’t know what I’d do without you here, alright?” Albus had never grown out of being hugged and clung as tightly at fifteen as he had when he was a child. Harry didn’t mind. In fact, he relished the solid feeling of his son in his arms as they rocked slightly, even if he knew he could count every one of Albus’s ribs through his back.

His recollection of the previous night was interrupted by Malfoy.

“I gave the report in, but July’s not happy, Potter. She says she wants to see you as soon as possible.” Harry groaned, already dreading the meeting with the wizened old witch. He was getting up, already formulating excuses in his head, when Malfoy spoke up.

“Scorpius wants to know if Albus can stay for the weekend. He hasn’t been over in an age, and Scorpius would appreciate the company.” Harry shook his head before Malfoy had even finished speaking.

“No, sorry. I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” He needed to have Albus at home to make sure he ate and didn’t strain himself too much. With his best friend, there was no way Albus was going to be considering his health. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and stared at Harry.

“Is there a reason for this? Or am I to tell Scorpius that apparently Albus’s father has returned to his schoolboy grudges?” Harry’s head jerked up.

“What? No I haven’t! Albus just isn’t very well at the moment, and he needs to be monitored. Maybe Scorp can come over to ours?” Harry didn’t want to deny his son any of his friends at this time.

“Hmm. We wouldn’t want Scorpius to catch whatever Albus has.” Harry snorted. “Trust me, that’s unlikely. Albus’s illness isn’t contagious, but it is dangerous for him. I’d really rather not let him out of my sight.”

“Perhaps the visitation can wait a little then, until Albus is better.” Harry wanted to laugh out loud. If they were to wait for that, they’d be sitting here for a long time.

“Look, let’s talk about this when I get back. But please don’t feel I don’t like Scorp or don’t want him to be friends with Albus. He just is really very ill.” Malfoy merely nodded and went to his desk, leaving Harry to go and face his superior.

Augusta July stared at him, her beady eyes piercing into his skull.

“ _Why_ did Auror Malfoy hand in _your_ report, Auror Potter?” Head of the Aurors’ Internal Affairs Department, July was a cold and efficient woman, with little time for those who broke rules.

“Auror Malfoy offered to do it as I hadn’t had the time.”

“No time for your _job?_ ” Harry flushed, knowing how bad it sounded. He wanted to explain, but didn’t want to use his son as an excuse. He _should_ have got everything done. That he hadn’t was a flaw in himself.

“I’m sorry, Head Auror July. It won’t happen again.”

“You’d better make sure it doesn’t, Potter, or you’ll be back in Active before you can blink. I have no need for the illiterate and lazy in _my_ section of the Aurors.” With that, she dismissed him, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t go back to Active; he couldn’t run the risk that he wouldn’t come back from a raid one day. No, Harry liked his desk job; liked that he could be there for his kids when they needed him.

That evening, things seemed to be better. Albus actually ate, and though he excused himself soon afterwards with little in the way of conversation offered, Harry felt that they were moving a step in the right direction.

With a week passing in a similar vein, Harry allowed Albus to stay with Scorpius for the weekend. When no bad news came, his heart soared. Maybe they were getting over this hurdle at last. Monday morning saw Harry in the office bright and early. Albus had come home the night before in a very good mood, and Harry was excited to find out from Malfoy how well Albus had behaved. However, when Malfoy came in, he looked disturbed.

“Potter, _what_ has Albus contracted? He is wasting away.” The smile dropped off Harry’s face and he frowned. “He’s getting better now! He just… stopped eating for a while, is all.” Oh yes, Malfoy wouldn’t have seen him since Christmas. In that time, Albus had shot up like a weed and lost dangerous amounts of weight at the same time.

“You sound completely unconcerned at the fact that your son is obviously suffering from some sort of… mental disorder.”

“Hey, there’s no need to be rude. There’s nothing wrong with Albus’s head. He was ill, and now he’s getting better, okay? Just drop it.” Malfoy did, and they spent the rest of the day in awkward silence.

That night, Harry was forced to eat his words. After Albus had finished at the table and gone upstairs, Harry noticed a strange sound coming from the floor above. It reminded him of when Ginny was pregnant with Lily – she’d had awful morning sickness. Following the noise, Harry was led to the bathroom on the landing. He knocked tentatively, and the sound stopped.

“Who’s in there? Are you alright?” There was a cough, and then,

“It’s me, Dad, and I’m alright. Dinner just didn’t agree with me.” Dinner had been plain pasta for Albus and half a glass of milk. Harry thought he could be forgiven for thinking that Albus was lying.

“Oh, okay. Tell me if you need anything.”

Harry heard the toilet flush, and he stumbled to his study, unable to believe what was going on. He’d thought Albus was getting _better_.


	2. Part Two

“Malfoy, can I ask you something?” Harry asked as he entered the office the next day. Draco pointedly ignored him, continuing with his paperwork, and Harry remembered that the day before hadn’t really had them seeing eye to eye. He sighed and moved to his desk, shooting looks at Malfoy every few minutes. He had a lot to catch up on as well; his late nights spent worrying about Albus weren’t really doing him any good.

Close to lunchtime, Malfoy stretched and stood up. He walked to the door before turning back to look at Harry.

“You coming, Potter? Thought I might go out early for lunch today.” Bemused, Harry followed after Malfoy, wondering at this strange turn of events. He’d thought he’d messed things up quite badly.

They walked quickly out of the office, not wanting to be caught ducking out of work, and headed to the Atrium to make their way into Muggle London. There was a café not too far away that was the favourite haunt of Ministry workers. Malfoy ordered coffees and the hot lunch from the set menu for both of them. They sat in silence until the food came and Harry looked down at it miserably, wondering how much of this Albus would eat if he was confronted with it.

“Out with it, Potter. This isn’t a date, you know. Scorpius – and I have to admit, I have my concerns as well – is worried about Albus.” In response, the words burst out of Harry’s mouth before he even had a chance to process what Malfoy had said.

“Albus is sick, _really_ sick, and I have no clue what to do. He either doesn’t eat at all, or makes himself throw up. I was trying to convince myself he was getting better, but now I don’t know what to do. He’s skin and bones, Malfoy. Sometimes he faints, or can’t get out of bed in the morning. I’m scared that one day, he’s… he’s not going to wake up in the morning. He’s already said that he doesn’t want to carry on living. I’ve tried to put it down to teenage drama, but he’s so obviously already killing himself that I don’t know what to do.” Harry stopped, his cheeks flushed. _Why_ was he saying this to Malfoy of all people? He hadn’t even told the family. Maybe it was because he knew that if one Weasley was told, it would soon spread to the rest of them, and Albus would never forgive him. Molly would take it as her new mission in life to fatten Albus up, and Harry knew that that kind of stance would only end in tears.

“I suspected as much, Potter. Have you considered taking him to Mungo’s?”

 Harry shook his head. “Even the mention of the place makes him have a fit. He refuses to go.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “And you let him? Potter, you’re the father here. Doing things that he doesn’t like but are for his own good is your job.”

“I know, but…” Harry flushed. Was it bad that he didn’t want any of his children to dislike him? He’d always been the ‘nice parent’ in discussions with his children. Ginny always said it had driven her half-insane. But he just didn’t know how to say no to them. “I just couldn’t deal with it if they hated me.” Malfoy looked as if he understood, but his tone was cutting.

“Potter, would you rather have your feelings hurt or your son dead? Because that’s how it’s going to end up if you’re not careful. Albus is going to _die_ if you don’t get him help.” Their meals forgotten and growing cold on the table, Harry rested his face in his hands in an attempt to cool his burning face. Malfoy continued speaking. “Harry, I’ll help you. We’ll take the afternoon off and go and get things set up at St. Mungo’s. Then we can get Albus the help he needs.” Harry nodded. He was shamelessly glad that the responsibility had been taken off his shoulders by someone more capable of bearing it. 

“Yes, if I build up to it, I’m sure Alby will understand that he needs to get help. Maybe we can –”

“Potter, if things go to plan at Mungo’s, Albus will be checked in tonight. There is no time to waste here, do you understand? There will be no more compromise.” Harry opened his mouth to argue, but shut it again just a moment later. What was the point? Malfoy was right, wasn’t he? There was no way that Albus was ever going to _agree_ to be admitted.

When Harry told the Healer Albus’s height and his suspected weight, she seemed to leap into action, telling Harry that Albus needed to be admitted as soon as possible. The look on her face was accusing, and when she bustled off, Malfoy placed a hand on Harry’s arm for moral support. Harry turned to Malfoy in desperation.

“I didn’t know, Malfoy, I promise! I thought that he was okay; that he just needed to relax a little from school and things would get better. I would never have left it this long if I…” Harry trailed off, realising that his excuses were just that: excuses. Yet again, he had failed someone. It seemed that there was always someone there to fix his stupid mistakes – Dumbledore; Hermione; Snape… Now Malfoy had stepped in. If Albus managed to pull through this whole situation, it certainly wouldn’t be because of his father. 

“Potter, we’re getting him help now. It’ll be okay.” Harry certainly hoped that would be the case.

**

 “No.”

“Alby, please.”

“I said no! I’m not a fucking child and I’m not letting you cart me off to Mungo’s – there’s _nothing_ wrong with me.”

“Albus, you can’t possibly think that. You nearly fell down the stairs the other day.”

“So what, now I’m being punished for being clumsy? Fuck this.” Albus tried to shoulder past Harry, who was standing nervously in the doorway, but was stopped in his tracks by Malfoy.

“Albus, this matter is not up for negotiation.”

“What the hell has this even got to do with you? You’re not my dad. Just because I’m friends with Scorp doesn’t give you some kind of power over me.”

“No, Albus, I am not your father. This is why what you say has no effect on me. You are to be admitted to the Ariana Dumbledore Ward, where you will be treated. You will stay there until recovered enough to be released. If this treatment needs to continue on into the school year, your school work will be sent via owl to you. Additionally, your father has arranged for tutors for you.”

Albus went completely white and was backing into his room. When he bumped into Harry, he turned around, his mouth open with shock.

“Dad, no. Please don’t do this to me. I’m fine, okay? There’s nothing wrong with me, I promise. Please don’t make me go. I won’t swear at you ever again, or say I hate James, or be mean to Lily; I’ll be perfect. Please don’t send me away! I don’t want to go.” Albus’s voice became more and more high-pitched and frantic and tears were beginning to collect in his eyes. Harry could feel the same thing happening to him. He looked over Albus’s shoulder at Malfoy, who nodded.

“Will you eat, Albus? If I let you stay here, would you eat?” Albus froze.

“Dad –”

“I think we both know the answer to that question. Come on Alby, let’s go.” Instead of giving in, Albus tried to make a run for it, only for one word to stop him in his tracks.

“ _Stupefy._ ” Harry wasn’t sure whether it was him or Draco that had uttered the words, but they both had their wands out. Albus crumpled, and Harry picked him up gently. No further words were said.

When they came back, Harry took Draco to his study, where he poured them both a cup of tea.

“Sorry that it’s not anything stronger. I don’t drink at home.”

“Nothing to worry about, Harry. I think it’s a little late to be drinking anyway. We’re not alcoholics.” Harry chuckled, but it sounded empty to his ears. He paced for a little while, and Draco leant against the bookcase, steaming mug in his hand.

“I wish I could make it all better for him.”

“You’re his father, Potter, of course you do. But he’s getting help now. Things will get better.”

“I hope so.” Malfoy pushed himself off the wall and made his way to Harry, where he placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him pacing. Malfoy was taller than him, as he had always been, and Harry looked up, their positioning awkward and strangely intimate. Their eyes connected and they stood there for a moment, Malfoy’s fingers softly stroking.

“I _know_ so,” he said eventually, and leaned in to kiss Harry. It was short, and chaste, but Harry felt the imprint of Draco’s lips on his long after Draco moved back. His hand slid down to the small of Harry’s back, and he leant in again to capture Harry’s lips. Draco was warm and everything that Harry had been missing since he and Ginny split. He moaned slightly as Draco’s hand moved down lower still, but anything further was interrupted by a tentative knock on the door. They broke apart, breathing heavily, and Harry coughed.

“Come in,” he said, detaching himself further from Draco. James and Lily came in and Harry saw at once that Lily had been crying. He went to her, and hugged her. Draco smiled at him and let himself out, shutting the door behind him quietly.

“Dad, where’s Albus gone?” James asked boldly, never one to beat around the bush. 

“James, as you know, your brother hasn’t been very well lately. He’s been admitted to St. Mungo’s, where they’re going to do all they can to get him better.” James and Lily shared a look, and Harry looked on, confused.

“What?”

“We… I thought that Alby might have… died, and you weren’t telling us.”

“Lils! I would never not tell you if something like that happened. Don’t worry; Albus is getting all the help he needs, alright?” She nodded and buried her face into his shoulder. James stood by the door in his awkward nearly-grown-up way. Harry beckoned him forward, and although he tried to pretend that he was unaffected, James moved swiftly into his father’s arms.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of home. The only thing missing was Albus.

When he had sent the kids up to bed, Harry sat back in his room, wondering how his life had managed to turn itself upside down so quickly. He hadn’t been in a relationship since Ginny, two years ago, and even a kiss had torrents of reawakened emotions raining down on him. Was it wrong to suddenly have a sense of optimism? He wasn’t perfect, he knew that, but he did his best. All he needed was for Albus to get better. That was all he wanted.

The weeks passed by quickly, and Harry didn’t think he’d been this happy in a long time. The kids seemed to take well to the slow integration of the Malfoys into their lives. Harry thought it was because Scorpius was such a pleasant child that it had been impossible for James to carry on his Weasley-taught (and Harry had to admit, he’d played a part) hatred of the ancient family. Albus was… not necessarily better, but he wasn’t getting worse either. That was all that Harry could have wished for. Every now and again, Albus would give him a smile on their weekly visits. Harry hadn’t seen his son smile for months.

Ginny had sent a letter, saying that she would be back in the country to support the family. Harry had been pleasantly surprised, but he felt he had a right to be a little resentful towards the woman who had essentially left him with three children to go gallivanting about the world to _find_ herself. And had then divorced him when he _still_ loved her, saying that he deserved _better_.  The wound still smarted; two years hadn’t been enough to ease his aching loss. He was waiting for her to come through the Floo now. He hadn’t seen her since Christmas, when he’d tried to persuade her to come back. She’d smiled a sad smile that made Harry want to scream, given him a kiss on the cheek and gone off to talk to Hermione, leaving Harry standing, lost, next to the fireplace.

The Floo sounded, and Ginny stepped out, looking to Harry as she had done all those years ago on their wedding day. He resented her carefree nature and the way she had always been able to brush everything off her back, while he seemed to get weighed down more and more with every day. She hugged him, his own awkwardness making the embrace strange. It wasn’t her fault. He just… didn’t know how he was supposed to interact with her.

“Harry, it’s been such a long time since I last saw you!” His answering smile was more of a grimace. “How is Albus? I’ve heard from Lily that he’s in St. Mungo’s?” He beckoned for her to sit down and she did so as if she had never left, sprawling herself over the sofa. “It seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?”

“Well, enlighten me, Ginny, as to what else I could have done when our son was _killing_ himself. When we took him in, the Healers told us that if we’d left it much longer, he might have died.” Her face fell.

“It was really that bad? I thought Lily was exaggerating, since James didn’t say anything like that. He just said that Albus had gotten a little worse and that –” Ginny shook her head, interrupting herself. “No, I suppose I’m being obtuse. Jamie never says what he means.” Harry wondered what exactly Ginny was trying to accomplish by telling him all this, but he wasn’t made to wait for long. “All of this has helped me make up my mind. I want to be closer to the children, Harry. I’ve decided to come back to England. There’s only so much travelling on your own you can do before you get bored.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Harry hadn’t been on a holiday since the children started trying to drown each other near any convenient body of water. And the Weasleys, especially Molly, liked everyone to be together for the holidays. He’d thought that he and Ginny would have all the time in the world to travel together when the last chick had flown the nest, but he’d had to re-evaluate his plans recently.

“At any rate, I want the kids to come and stay with me.” Harry’s heart froze. “I’ve already bought a house, and I think it would be good for them if they spent more time with their mum.” She seemed to be waiting for a response from Harry, but he didn’t know what she was expecting. “What do you want me to say to that, Ginny? I’m glad that you want to come back into their lives all of a sudden, but why do you need to take them away from here? They _like_ this house – we picked it out together when _you_ left. They like their routines and how their lives are already. Why do you want to change everything? Why are you punishing me?” He stood up and Ginny looked shocked

“Harry!”

“I never wanted all the changes you thrust on me. I quit my job for a worse-paying one where I write notes all day, every day because I didn’t want my kids to grow up parentless. I let you drain a vault going to places that _I’m never going to see_! I put up with Lily crying every night for a year because her mum was gone, and Albus blaming himself for us breaking up. And now you want to demean every bloody sacrifice I’ve made just because… you feel some need to be a good mother now?” Harry was breathless and his face was red, but he couldn’t have said nothing. His children were everything to him. No world was worth living in if they were not there. “Harry… I’m sorry.” She stood up as well, laying a hand on his arm in a strange mimicry of the way Draco had done not so long ago. “I suppose I forgot that while I’d been away, you’d been here looking after them. Contrary to what you may believe, however, I don’t want to take them away from you. I could never do something like that, and the kids wouldn’t stand for it, anyway. I just want to make sure I don’t miss any more of their lives. Two years was enough.” Harry was already calming down, embarrassed with the scene he had made. 

“I know you don’t think it’s healthy, but my life doesn’t have meaning without them, Gin. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if you took them away.” The thinly veiled warning seemed to go down badly with Ginny.

“Harry, don’t you date?” she said, clearly troubled. Great, now she thought he was mad.

“Well, yes, I’m seeing someone right now as a matter of fact. It’s only been a few weeks, though.” No need for her to know that this was his first relationship since her.

“Oh, that’s good. Has she met the kids yet?” Harry flushed.

“I think everyone’s met the kids,” he said cryptically, the words not even making sense to him. However, Ginny seemed to buy it, and she smiled at him again, a genuine happy-for-him kind of smile. Why was he such a horrible arsehole? Why couldn’t he be happy like her? He marvelled at Ginny’s resilient nature for a moment longer, before she remembered her promise to visit Albus as soon as she was back and made her excuses. Harry saw her out and just about stopped himself from sliding down the wall to the floor when she left. His respite was short-lived, as the Floo sounded again not too long later. “Harry?” Draco’s welcome voice echoed in the fireplace, and Harry didn’t care if it made him seem like a puppy welcoming its owner; he still bounded over, wasting no time. The hug he received from Draco was warm and welcome and he buried his face in Draco’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. Draco used both of his hands to raise Harry’s face up and kissed him firmly, Harry’s hands moving to their natural position around Draco’s narrow waist.

“What a greeting! I certainly wasn’t expecting that, but can’t say that I mind. What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing. Ginny came over and I was reminded about how lucky we’ve been that things turned out as they did. If she hadn’t left, I would never have had this with you.”

“You never know, we might have had a torrid affair,” Draco said, snorting.

“Draco, I’d never cheat on anybody,” Harry said quite seriously. He wasn’t sure why it was important for Draco to know that (they were early days yet), but it was.

“Don’t worry, Saint Potter, I know. I wouldn’t cheat on you either, if you’ve been worried.” Harry wasn’t so sure.

“Draco… I hadn’t wanted to say anything, but aren’t you married?” Draco averted his eyes, stiffening slightly.

“Does it matter?”

“It really does.”

“Astoria and I… have never really seen eye to eye. We are essentially waiting until Scorpius is of age before we separate formally. However, we no longer live in the same wings of the Manor. She does what she wants and I do the same.” Harry sighed. He couldn’t understand the way traditionalists’ minds worked, but it was reassuring to hear that he wasn’t some kind of diversion. He kissed Draco again, trying to convey his apology for bringing up the subject. Draco didn’t relax completely (and Harry regretted that), but he had had to ask. Otherwise, he’d have been no better than a cheater.

When they broke apart again, Harry rested his forehead against Draco’s shoulder. Draco laughed lightly, and Harry smiled at the vibrations running through his head. Draco lifted a hand to Harry’s cheek and stroked it lightly, reminding Harry that he needed to shave sometime soon before he actually developed a beard.

“Isn’t it your birthday soon?” Harry blinked, realising that it was indeed the week before the 31st of July. He’d forgotten about it all in the turbulence of the summer holidays.

“So it is,” he said in a non-committal manner. There wasn’t really very much to look forward to, was there? Another year older, another year closer to death. He hadn’t really celebrated his birthday since he was thirty. His birthday had been deemed Harry Potter Day, which always made him feel sick. Eventually he’d asked the Weasleys not to bother throwing a party for him. He usually just had a meal with his children (and Ginny, before she’d gone off) and basked in the warm glow of family. He wouldn’t even get that this year, would he? Albus was in hospital, and it didn’t seem he’d get out any time soon.

“You could sound a little more enthusiastic,” Draco said, grinning.

“Mm. I don’t really care this year, if I’m honest. What with Albus away, it just won’t be the same.” Draco held him closer, but didn’t say anything. Harry had missed being close to another person – he’d almost forgotten what it was like to hold; to be held. Draco was slowly reminding him of the sensations.

That night, Draco and Scorpius stayed over. The children seemed to be drawing comfort from each other in Albus’s absence and Draco and Harry certainly didn’t want to keep them apart. It wasn’t as if he minded Draco’s company, however. In fact, lying under Draco as he ravaged Harry’s mouth was proving to be quite pleasant. James had asked if he needed to set up the spare bedroom for ‘Mr Malfoy’, seeing as Scorpius was sleeping in his room. Harry had blushed and said that that wasn’t necessary. James had given him a look out of the corner of his eye that said that he was certainly not being subtle, but hadn’t said anything further.

Whatever his son might think of his choice in partner, Harry was enjoying himself. Draco detached himself long enough to pull off his pyjama bottoms, Harry’s already somewhere on the floor. And then they were touching fully, skin to skin.

“ _Hello_ , Mr Potter,” Draco said teasingly, reaching down between them to cup Harry’s balls. Harry shuddered in pleasure but felt the need to say something.

“Draco, I won’t last long. I, uh… haven’t _done_ anything in a while.”

“I haven’t slept with anyone since I started dating you, either. Not a problem with me. Fast and furious, that’s how I like it.” Harry’s jaw dropped. Who could have known that Draco Malfoy had such a mouth on him? Nevertheless, he felt that Draco was labouring under a few misconceptions about Harry’s experience with sex in general.

“I haven’t since Ginny,” he said, rushing out the words. Draco’s gently moving hand stilled, and the words came out slowly.

“That… was two years ago.” Harry nodded, swallowing nervously. “You haven’t had sex for two years.” Again, Harry nodded, more hesitantly this time. “Wait, wait. You’ve been dating Weasley since school! Do you mean to say that she’s the only one you’ve…” Harry, not having expected this, nodded once more.

“That’s not so strange, is it? I thought that most people…” he trailed off, remembering Ron and Lavender, or Ginny and her various boyfriends. Had they been…? “Oh Merlin, now I sound like some sort of shy virgin.” He turned his face into his pillow, trying to cool down his flushed face. Draco bent down, and his mouth just brushed the shell of Harry’s ear.

“No, I like it this way. Means I’m going to be the first boy to put my cock in Harry Potter’s bum.” Harry groaned in mixed embarrassment and anticipation. Did he _have_ to put it that way?

“Get on with it then, Malfoy. Harry Potter doesn’t really have all day.” As Draco captured his mouth again, Harry could think of no one else he wanted to be with.

**

Harry hung up his coat, having had a horrible day at work. Draco hadn’t been there for some reason, and all attempts by Harry to Floo him had been met with radio silence. He hoped that everything was alright.

“Lily! James! What d’you want for dinner? I thought we could order…” As he walked into the kitchen, he was confronted with the sight of a dozen balloons and a massive cake sitting in the middle of the table, surrounded by a veritable feast of food. So fixated was he on the spread before him, that he barely noticed the pops as his friends and family apparated in, shouting “Happy Birthday!” But there was one voice that he hadn’t been expecting…

“Albus?” A body detached itself from the crowd and launched itself at him, holding tightly. Harry pushed back to see his son fully – delighted to see the colour returning to his son’s face. As he hugged him again, swaying slightly, Harry felt tears prick his eyes. Yes, Albus was still bony, but Harry could feel that he was filling out slowly. In the background, he heard Ron say, “Everyone, into the living room! I think a game of Charades is called for!” As the crowd filtered out, Harry and Albus were left in the room alone.

“How are you, Alby?” Harry said, unable to stop himself from touching his son. Yes, he had seen him only a week ago, but it seemed that Albus had made such progress in such a short amount of time.

“I feel better, Dad. I… wouldn’t say that I like food, or even that I _want_ to be completely better, but I do know that I don’t want to die and leave all of you behind.”

“Oh, Albus,” Harry said, his eyes filling up with tears. His throat closed up and he could say no more.

“Me and Mum baked your cake, and Mr Malfoy helped us work out the recipe,” he said, hinting that both he and Ginny now knew about his relationship. He hadn’t heard anything from Ginny, so he assumed that she thought it a good thing. What had he done to deserve such an accepting family? No matter how he had felt about Ginny in the past, he knew that she was a good person fundamentally. “It’s really healthy,” Albus continued. “It’s not got a lot of sugar or butter in, but there’s loads of fruit. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I couldn’t…” Harry hugged Albus again, stroking his back.

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect, Albus. All I want is for you to be comfortable. And what’s wrong with a fruit cake? You know I love them at Christmas.” Albus nodded, ducking his head, and father and son held each other for a moment before separating.

“I know you’ve got a long way to go, Albus, and I know you can’t come home permanently yet, but just know that all of us at home are rooting for you, alright?

“I know, Dad. And… I really like Mr Malfoy. Even though he’s not Mum, I don’t think he’s half-bad.” Before Harry could respond, Albus had left the room to join everyone else, leaving Harry with a wide grin on his face.

“It’s nice to know I’m in the Potter good books,” a voice said from the pantry.

“Were you in there the whole time?” Harry asked, startled by the voice.

“Well, I wanted to give my birthday wishes to the birthday boy personally,” Draco said, taking a hold of Harry’s hand. He used it as leverage to pull Harry into a soft and short kiss.

“Witch-face sends birthday greetings by the way. Think she hopes you might retire soon.” Harry laughed outright and led Draco into the living room, where the whole room was in an uproar about something or other. Harry leant back against Draco’s solid weight and stood there, basking in the warmth of his home, his family and this new and strange relationship. This was definitely the best birthday he’d ever had.   



End file.
